


Forever Young

by CammyWhammy



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CammyWhammy/pseuds/CammyWhammy
Summary: Peter Returns to Wendy, but he is not as Wendy remembers. No matter, the thrill of Neverland is too much to resist and she happily lets him take her away. But Hook still plagues Neverland, and he is always, as usual, hunting down Peter Pan. An adventure awaits us. It is time that we had it.
Relationships: Wendy Darling/Peter Pan (Peter Pan)
Kudos: 14





	Forever Young

Chapter One

“Wendy…” Peter whispered into the window. He peered into the dark bedroom. In the past it had been illuminated by a friendly nightlight, but tonight, moonlight was his only beacon. With quick feet, Peter stepped off the windows sill, and onto the hardwood.  
“Wendy?” He called again, but there was no answer. His eyes widened in the darkness and he could now see that there was only one bed in the nursery, the others being replaced with a lady’s vanity and a large mirror in which reflected a shadowed man.  
“Ah!” Peter gasped, as he drew his little blade, and the tall shadow drew it too. Peter moved this way and that, challenging his reflection, but the reflection mimicked him. Puzzled, Peter put away his blade and reached out to examine the shadow. But as he approached it, the shadow bore a strangely familiar face. Could it really be…  
“Peter?” Came a voice. He turned into the darkness to see the shape of Wendy. He had not realized how badly he had missed her until he saw her there in her silly little nightdress, which now almost reached her knees. Peter felt a rush of excitement. How could he have waited so long to come fetch her? He felt awfully silly for it.  
“Yes, I am here!” He said running towards her, but she backed away. Wendy did not expect to be approached by such a tall person. She expected Peter to have remained little all his life. But he had not.  
“You don’t want me to fetch you, Wendy?” He said, stepping back. When she said nothing, he walked towards the window and pretended to leave. He meant to tease her out of her hiding place, and was further crestfallen when she did not budge even a little when he stuck his foot out into the air. The moonlight illuminated him little enough for Wendy to see him clearly.  
“No, Peter, I do.” She whispered softly. “But your voice…”  
“What about my voice?” He spoke quickly, suddenly aware of its timbre.  
“It’s not… Peter have you grown?” She asked, poking softly at the subject. Peter scoffed.  
“What a silly question Wendy, you know I cannot grow up.” He propped his hands upon his hips in his usual cocky fashion.  
“Peter, how old are you, really?” She challenged.  
“Why? How old are you?”  
“Nine.” She lied.  
“Then I am ten.”  
“Oh Peter, you cannot really believe that I am only nine!” She laughed. He stamped his foot as he was greatly displeased at being had.  
“You know I am no good at telling ages!” He groaned. “Tell me for real!”  
“Fourteen, then.”  
“Good, then I am fifteen.” Peter said crossing his arms. “End of discussion.”  
It was Wendy’s turn to stamp her foot now. Peter seemed tickled pink at irking her, and he laughed. He laughed that awful laugh that broke her into pieces, and reverberated through the room. Yes, it was indeed Peter. Her heart felt flooded with a strange and terrible feeling. In his glee, Peter pulled Wendy by the arm to the window.  
“Let’s fly now!” He cried. It seemed unbearable to Peter that Wendy was not already with him in Neverland. He really had no idea why he had waited so long to fetch her. Then again, he could almost sense a memory of fearing she’d say no. But it was barely a sense, and before he even considered thinking on it, the feeling was gone.  
Stumbling forward, Wendy could not help but follow him. From the illuminated window she saw him fully. He was taller, but still boyish in his features. His jaw had sharpened, and so had his eyes. Her heart stammered at the sight. Wendy had to admit it was not a bad look on Peter Pan. She looked past him into the night sky, then down below to the three story drop from her window.  
“Peter…” Wendy whispered, her heart feeling heavy. “I don’t think I can fly anymore.”  
“Well, why not?” Peter asked.  
“I have grown…” She said plainly.  
“So?” He said. “I can still fly, can’t I?” Wendy raised an eyebrow at him, and he noted his mistake. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled her hand towards him.  
“Just trust me.” He said, staring down onto her. He floated above the sill and let the gentle breeze carry him a couple of feet from the window, his hand still clasped around Wendy’s. Wendy followed, forcing herself to look into Peter’s face instead of down below. With senseless confidence, she climbed over the sill and stepped onto thin air. The thin air, being quite thin by nature did not support her weight like Peter had promised, and she fell forward grabbing onto Peter’s arm as he was pulled harshly downwards by gravity. A scream echoed into the night, and Wendy did not realize it was hers until she was sure that she had not died or broken both of her legs. She had locked her eyes shut in the fall and now opened them to see her legs dangling over the garden below. Heart pounding, she looked up at Peter, whose look of absolute shock was quickly replaced with a smirk.  
“No matter, I will carry you!” He said cheerfully. Wendy felt him pull her up as he bobbed up and down precariously in the air. It was strange how strong he was. He pulled her up as if she were a sack of flour, and he snaked her arms around his neck while he hooked his arms under her legs to secure her like a back pack. He bounced her weight a bit to adjust her and she giggled, only a little, in glee. It was strange, then, that she was crying. She was crying because for the first time in her life, she had wanted to look backwards into her childhood, and found that she could not go back. Wendy could no longer fly. It was her first look into the barred window. Lock out time. Peter understood the barred window well, although he doesn’t acknowledge why he does, as he is always stubbornly looking away from it. He turned his head to look at her, and was so moved by her tears that he could not help but place a small thimble on her cheek.  
“Ready to fly?” He said. Wendy nodded, splitting into a smile from the thimble. Peter squatted and pushed hard off of an imaginary ground, and they were jetted into the stars on their way back to Neverland. 

Chapter Two  
It was strange to hold onto him as Wendy did not know how to grip him. If he were still little, she would not have minded, but he was halfway to being a man now and it didn’t seem proper. His shape was awkwardly long, as if it had made great efforts to burst from its boyish shell, but was stubbornly being held back. His arms and legs had elongated but had yet to be filled out. It would have looked like normal growing up business on any other boy, but not on Peter Pan. As intriguing as it was to see Peter growing up, there was something altogether unnatural about it. The air grew colder as they climbed higher into the sky, and Wendy clung tighter to him. She had forgotten how arduous a journey it was to Neverland. Without the silly company of her brothers, time seemed to drag on. There was nothing but the wooshing of air, and the constant cover of star stippled sky. She quietly suggested that they take a rest at the next treetop, but Peter would have none of it. Carrying Wendy all the way to Neverland had now become a game to Peter which he dearly wanted to win, but Wendy worried that he would lose interest in her halfway to Neverland, and leave her on some tree to die. Peter never did grow bored of Wendy, although he evidently did grow tired. It seemed like days that they were flying, and the sun never crested the horizon. Instead, it seemed that they were following the night as it snaked over the globe. When Peter was almost ready to proclaim he was ready to give up and drop like a stone into the ocean below, the clouds below began to turn to waves and the sky turned into a never-ending sea. A sea which in the distance housed one small island with a menacing ship at its shores.  
“Neverland…” Wendy sighed with relief. She was sure that Peter would crow, but he was so fatigued that all he could manage was a quiet ‘hoorah’. He could not hide his eagerness to land and flew ever faster towards the shore. The descent made Wendy’s stomach turn flips and Peter landed feet first onto the shore in a puff of sand. He immediately dropped Wendy, his load forgotten in his happiness to be back in Neverland. He rolled onto the hot sand and laughed wildly in his glee. Wendy wanted to be cross with him for dropping her so suddenly, but could not find anger when she approached him and found that he had very swiftly fallen asleep on the warm sand. Maybe Peter was pretending to have fallen asleep so fast, but no matter, Wendy let him rest.  
Then she took a look about and found herself completely alone on an island far from home. She looked at Peter and wondered how long it would take him to forget the awful journey to carry her back home or if he would at all. Wendy looked over at the endless ocean before her, and suddenly, it all went dark. A burlap sack was pulled over her head and her feet swept off the ground in some strange hairy arms. She had meant to shriek but it happened so quickly she had forgotten to. Completely wrapped up like a bundle of potatoes, she felt herself bouncing away from the spot where Peter lay silently sleeping.  
"Avast belay, yo ho, heave to…” Spoke a chorus of men.  
Pirates… Wendy thought. What a shame to be brought to Neverland just in time to be killed by pirates. Wendy had no weapons on her person to defend herself and pulled the hair pins from her hair to grasp them in her hand, pointy end out. She was as ready as she would ever be to face Hook. The Pirate song went on for so long that many of the Pirates had forgotten the verses and replaced them with silly nonsense ones.  
“We baked a cake to catch a shark  
Poisoned apples in the park  
Forgot our shoes when night had come  
Fell over them in the dark.”  
The creaking of a very old ship could be heard in the distance and Wendy gripped her pins ever tightly. She could hear their boots thumping up a wooden plank as they boarded the dreaded Jolly Roger. The poor unfortunate Pirates who had been tasked with carrying her swiftly unburdened themselves and she was dropped, for the second time today, right on her bottom. She had had enough of being carried around by men!  
The burlap sack was pulled from under her and she was flung from it, rolling head over feet onto a rich red carpet until she landed split legged on the floor. Wendy looked up to see the malicious red coattails of Hook.  
“Ah, Wendy Darling…” He spoke while twirling his mustache with his hook. He turned slowly and dramatically to face her.  
“We meet aga- What is she doing on the floor?” He asked his Pirates.  
“Well… she did roll out of a sack…” Cecco said. It earned him a bullet in the chest. As quickly as Hook had drawn his weapon, it was back again inside his coat. No other pirates dared to speak. Hook’s mouth turned into a charming smile and he held out his remaining hand for Wendy to take.  
“A lady,” He bowed to her. “should never be transported so carelessly. Please stand, my dear.” Wendy took his hand and she stood before them to a collective gasp.  
“Nearly a woman.” Hook said as he pressed his mustached lips to her hand. “Please forgive us, my dear.” Wendy took her hand from his and wiped the back of it on her nightdress to Hook’s dismay.  
“Why did you bring me here?” She asked. Hook chuckled.  
“Only to ask you a question.” He said turning about her.  
“Ask it, then.” She said standing straighter. Suddenly, Hook turned fierce and brought his hook to her neck.  
“How is it that you can still fly?” He demanded. Wendy tried to show no fear, but felt it rise in her nevertheless.  
“I’ll never tell.” She said bravely.  
“Perhaps I can persuade you.” He said, suddenly gentle as he brushed her hair from her face. It was then that she remembered the hairpins in her hand and she slashed at him with them. They grazed his cheek and left a small red mark. He growled and brought his hand to his face to see if it bled. When he saw that it didn’t, he laughed.  
“You mean to fight me with hairpins?” He said, amused. “How like a girl!” Hook threw back his head and laughed, his band of pirates chuckling amorously after him. Hook raised his hand to quiet them and they hushed immediately. “You are very brave, my dear. Now, tell me how is it that you can still fly?”  
“You’ll have to kill me first.” Wendy said, although her voice shook just a little. Hook lost his patience and pulled her head back to bare her neck. He scraped his hook across it and she gulped heavily.  
“You should be more careful my dear.” He said through gritted teeth. “You have more to lose than just your life.” His hook then scraped further down her clavicle, past the little acorn she wore on a chain and down to the little bow adorned on the neckline of her dress. She grabbed at his hook, thinking he meant to take her precious Kiss, and her dress was ripped from the neck down to her sternum. Wendy clasped her dress closed. A collective gasp followed, and Wendy felt for the first time the realness of ten grown men surrounding her. She felt a cold kind of fear she had never experienced before.  
“I will ask nicely only once more.” Hook continued. “How is it that you can still fly?” Wendy shook now as she felt the presence of the other Pirates push in closer.  
“I-I can’t…” She whispered. “I can’t fly.”  
“Liar!” Hook bellowed, and he sliced at her once more, tearing a part of her skirt down to her knee.  
“I swear it! I can’t fly!” Wendy said, now sobbing wholly.  
“Then how did you get here?” Hook asked between his teeth.  
“Peter carried me! He carried me all the way!”  
Hook was dumbfounded.  
“Then how can he still fly?”  
“I don’t know!” She cried. He brought his hook to her face again and pressed it to her cheek, deciding whether or not to believe her. Then, he lowered it and brushed away the tears that were flowing down her face and dripping off of her chin with his one good hand.  
“Look at you, my dear.” He said, suddenly calmed. “You’re in such a state.” Hook then snapped his fingers, and Smee scrambled to his side. “The lady Wendy seems to have ruined her dress, fetch one from the galley.” Hook asked pleasantly. Smee smacked his hand onto his forehead in a salute, and scampered off again in the other direction. Hook removed his jacket and placed it over the shoulders of Wendy. It was a heavy thing which smelled like gun powder and salt with the weight of a pistol in a concealed pocket. Wendy slipped her hand inside it.  
“There there, my lady.” Hook cooed. “We will figure it out together, you and I.” Wendy looked up into his delighted eyes which glowed halfway to red in a vivid purple. His hand squeezed her shoulder hard, but Wendy did not dare pull away from him.  
“Keep an eye on Peter.” Hook whispered. “Find out what makes him fly. And I will be keeping an eye on you. Understand?” He asked shaking her. She nodded rather frantically and Smee returned with an opulent scarlet dress, his cheeks aglow with pride.  
“Here you are, Captain!” Smee said happily, displaying the garment.  
“Smeeeeeee!” Hook bellowed. “Could you not have fetched one of the more homely dresses? Must you have gotten that one?” He groaned.  
“But see how it compliments her auburn hair…” Smee began. Hook rolled his eyes and grabbed the dress from Smee to toss it to Wendy. Then Hook took back his jacket and Wendy deftly slipped the pistol from the pocket and into the folds of the dress. She was really rather clever despite her fear.  
“Everyone, be gone from here. Shoo!” Hook said to his underlings. The pirates scrambled from the room and Wendy was left alone with Hook.  
“You may change here.” Hook said. “No one will be watching you. I promise.” He said with a sly smile before he left the room, slamming the door behind him.  
Wendy unraveled the dress in her arms to look it over, and saw that it was a lady’s dress, not a girl’s. The kind with low necklines and lace trimmings. She stepped into the dress one foot at a time, and pulled it up over her torn night dress. A lady’s dress should have been far too big for a girl, but to Wendy’s dismay, it fit. Almost.  
Chapter Three  
When Wendy opened the door to the cabin, no one was on deck. The ship appeared deserted although she had just seen twenty or so pirates just seconds ago. Checking once more that she was alone, Wendy gripped the pistol that she had stolen from Hook’s coat in between the folds of the dress and scampered for the boarding plank as fast as she could. She had to lift up her skirts to not trip over them, as they were still just a bit too long for her, and made a dash for the cover of the jungle. Once in the jungle, Wendy began to cry. She was not having fun in Neverland, and she regretted deeply her rash decision to come along with Peter. Why had she come with Peter, after all? Was it because he looked so striking in the moonlight? Was she such a slave to the feelings she had for him? Lucky that he did not have them, she thought. Now she was truly upset, and she stomped about in the woods almost hoping to get lost in them. But, by chance or fate, she burst through the thick greenery to emerge right back on the beach where Peter still lay sleeping. He seemed aglow with sunlight, and he was smiling sleepily in its warmth.  
“Peter…” Wendy called from the forest edge. Peter, completely pleased with hearing her voice stretched the sleep from his limbs and turned over to face her with a sweet smile. But once he beheld her, his smile slipped.  
“What are you wearing, Wendy?” He asked dumbly. Wendy only shook her head and began to cry again, her anger forgotten.  
“Oh, Peter…” She said before running to him and wrapping her arms around him.  
“What’s happened, Wendy?” Peter asked.  
“It was Hook, Peter. And I was so scared.” She said muffled in his breast. His whole body stiffened.  
“Hook.” Said Peter angrily. Without any more questions, he pushed her away and drew his knife, then he thought to himself and placed it back in its sheath. Wendy fell back on the sand, feeling quite clumsy in the dress. “If we mean to kill him, I am going to need a real sword.” Peter said matter-of-factly. Then he beheld her in the sand, tears still drying on her cheeks. “What did he do to you, Wendy?” Peter asked. Wendy, ashamed, began to undo the ties in the opulent red dress.  
“What are you doing, Wendy?” He asked, but Wendy did not stop undoing the garment. Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, and he found his heart beat very fast. It was that awful feeling again piercing him in the chest. It must have been a cursed dress Hook put on her. Peter explained quietly to himself.  
“What are you doing…?” He asked in a whisper. Then the dress came unclasped, and it fell in a heap on the sand. Peter sighed with relief when he saw that she was wearing her old nightgown underneath. He had not realized that he had stopped breathing. Her nightgown was torn, and she clasped the front of it shut with one hand.  
“He’s ruined your nightdress?” Peter said, almost laughing. “Is that what you’re so upset about?” He teased. Peter did not understand what was so scary about it. Wendy’s face fell.  
“I was scared, Peter. Really, very scared.” She said softly. Peter smiled and came over to her to thimble her on the cheek just like he had done before, but Wendy pushed him away. Never one to show weakness he pretended to not be fazed by it, and instead drew his blade.  
“We need to arm ourselves to fight Hook.” He said. “In the meantime, take my knife to protect yourself.” He held it out for her to take.  
“Oh,” She laughed. “You can keep it.” And she drew the stolen pistol from the folds of the dress. Peter immediately stepped backwards.  
“Whoa, Wendy! Where did you get that?” He gasped.  
“If Hook comes near me again, I will shoot him dead.” She said, pointing it out to sea. Peter looked at her and saw that she had filled with anger. Never had he seen her so angry. Hook must have scared her very badly. Then a small thought occurred to him.  
“Does it… have any shot?” He asked timidly. Wendy was suddenly crestfallen. To test out the pistol she closed her eyes and put pressure on the trigger. Her hand shook and click! The trigger pulled. Nothing happened. Peter’s shoulders fell.  
“Thank god…” He sighed.  
“Why ‘thank god?’” She asked. He turned and smiled wickedly at her.  
“Because you’re a terrible aim.” He mocked.  
“Am not!” She fumed.  
“Are too! You weren’t even looking! Your eyes were closed!”  
Wendy’s face turned scarlet and she dropped the pistol to chase after him, looking to strike at him in any way she could. He could have simply flown away, but Peter loved to play chase and he especially loved to be chased by Wendy. So, he ran away from her just a grasp out of reach. When she gave up in frustration, Peter chased after her and toppled her over into the sand. He meant for her to fight him, to continue the play, but she let him secure her arms down beside her. Wendy was acting strange.  
“I’ve won and you’ve lost!” He said, trying to get her to fight back. But she did nothing, and for some reason he could do nothing either. His heart was piercing him again, and he felt that awful feeling from deep inside his stomach. Maybe he was hungry, maybe he was thirsty… He certainly was not feeling feelings. No, he must be tired, he must be dreaming, yes, this must be really only a dream. Peter lowered his gaze to her mouth and stared at that hidden kiss. The kiss which she had given to only him. A memory suddenly filled him.  
“What are your feelings, Peter?” it said.  
Nothing, Peter responded to it, I feel nothing.  
But he certainly had felt something then, and terribly he felt it now. It was awful that she did not fight back or resist him. A small part of him begged that she would, but the rest of him awakened in a strange way. He wished that Wendy would give him another hidden kiss, but she didn’t. Instead she pushed him away. He rolled off of her and stared at her, bewildered and embarrassed. Her cheeks had turned red, and she looked at him curiously. Wendy did not understand Peter Pan. She did not understand the silent battle he was fighting against himself. He meant to apologize, but for what? In his mind he had already rid himself of the awful feelings that were thrust upon him and now only sat with the feelings left over; Vengeance against Hook, and embarrassment. It was easy for him to choose which he would rather feel.  
“We need weapons.” He said plainly as he got up from the sand. Wendy was all too happy to move on from the awkwardness Peter had created.  
“Where will we find them?” She asked. Peter now returned to his usual playful self and turned to her with a glow in his eyes.  
“We have to raid the catacombs.” He said before pulling Wendy into the forest on an adventure.  
Chapter Four  
“I never knew there were catacombs in Neverland.” Wendy said breathlessly as Peter led her through the thick of the forest. He laughed his reverberant laugh.  
“Yes, with bones and bodies, and hidden treasure!” He said, giddy. He turned to face her. “Among that treasure, weapons. Lots of them!”  
“No pistols, I hope.” She said, still bitter.  
“No, but swords.” He said. “And you’re an excellent swordsman.” He meant this with the utmost compliment and Wendy swallowed every bit of it. Holding her head a bit higher, they dove deeper into the forest until they reached a familiar clearing with a stump in the middle. It was one of the old stumps that had been carved out to fit every Lost Boy perfectly, and they led directly into the underground tree house. This stump in particular was Peter’s.  
“This,” Said Peter mysteriously. “Is the entrance to the catacombs!”  
“Oh…” Said Wendy, a bit put out. It really would have been exciting to fight off skeletons. “But, it’s just your stump, Peter.” His brows lowered.  
“No, it’s the entrance to the catacombs and I don’t fit so how could it possibly be my stump.” He said almost angrily. And so, Wendy began to understand.  
“Oh, silly me!” She said. Peter relaxed.  
“I think you might fit in, though.” He said. “Will you be the bravest among us to fetch the treasure?”  
“I will!” She said pridefully and stepped into the hole inside of the stump. But Wendy had also grown and to her dismay, the hole only fit her to her bottom, and she could push herself down no more. She was not so surprised, but Peter looked at her in horror. He had not noticed that Wendy had grown, to him Wendy was always Wendy, and now for the first time he realized he had overlooked how grown up she had become as well.  
“Oh, Wendy…” He said, almost apologetically. She shrugged.  
“I thought it looked a bit small…” Wendy tried to wriggle herself free but felt quite stuck. She held out her arms to him and without question he came over to pluck her from the trunk. When Peter placed her soundly back on the ground, he could not stop looking at her. Her face, her hair, her body… had it all changed so much? Dreadfully he looked down her nightdress ripped open by Hook. Almost a woman…  
“Peter!” Wendy gasped as she clung her nightdress closed. Never had he looked at her that way. He looked now into her face.  
“You’ve grown.” He said plainly.  
“Yes, I have!” She said. “What of it?”  
Peter had nothing to say, and terribly he realized that although she had grown, it was him who looked down onto her, and not the other way around. He wanted to think no more of it.  
“Forget it!” He said angrily as he walked back towards the forest. “We will have to find some other treasure.”  
“But Peter…” She said after him. “We could just carve the hole wider and we could both fit!”  
“I am not too big for my trunk!” He screamed. His declaration rang out into the forest, and Wendy could see for the first time that he was crying. He turned away from her, embarrassed. A strange silence fell between them, and all the while Peter tried to silently pretend that he was not crying. Wendy knew his pride was too sensitive to be coddled and pretended for his sake not to take notice. Instead, Wendy had an idea. She ripped off the bottom of her nightdress grabbed a stick to draw faint lines onto it. Peter turned to watch her from the corner of his eye, but swiftly turned back when Wendy would spy him. She worked quickly, rubbing dirt onto it to make it seem ancient, and rolling it neatly into a parchment tied with a blade of grass. Then she buried it with a corner sticking out. When she was done, she ran to Peter.  
“Maybe… there is another way into the catacombs.” She suggested. Peter deftly wiped his eyes clear of tears.  
“What do you mean?” He asked turning towards her.  
“I am sure there are plenty more holes that lead into the crypt. Let us go find another.” She replied. Peter’s face lit with dawning understanding. Wendy was giving him an out.  
“Yes! We should find another!” He ran back over to the trunk and searched the ground by it “There must be a clue… ah!” He said pretending to spy the corner of the fabric for the first time.  
“Peter! What have you found?” She exclaimed. He played along and pulled the fabric tied like a parchment from the ground.  
“I don’t know…” He said excitedly as he unraveled it. When he saw what it was, he smiled to Wendy slyly. “It’s a treasure map.” He said. Wendy smiled up at him.  
“Oh!” She said in feigned surprise.  
Peter’s mood was set right again and they made their way through the forest following the path Wendy had drawn on the map. When there was a bit that was too smudged, Peter would hand the map to her and claim it was in ‘Mapanese’ so that she could translate the ancient text when really, the dirt had rubbed off and Peter could no longer follow the line.  
It led them to a huge dead tree which bore within it a great big hole. Tootle’s tree. Tootle had always been the most gluttonous of the Lost Boys, and would secretly carve his hole larger to compensate for his waistline so that Peter would not cut his rations. Wendy looked down the trunk and was happy to see that it was large enough for either one of them.  
“The catacombs…” She said mysteriously. Peter could not contain his excitement. He looked down into the trunk and climbed in head first, sliding down the tube.  
“Yahoo!” He screamed as he fell into the heart of the underground tree home. Wendy followed after him and tumbled into the darkness of the home.  
Well, there certainly were no skeletons to fight, but Wendy was caught in at least three different spider webs all at once. She could not imagine how many Peter had gone through.  
They were in complete darkness, save from a strange glow in the direction of Peter.  
“Peter is that you?” She asked, still wiping the spiderwebs from herself.  
“What is me?” He asked.  
“That… glow…”  
“Oh, yeah!” He chuckled. “Watch this!” And he took a huge intake of breath. Then the room was filled with his glorious echoing laughter. Suddenly, Peter lit up, and the darkness was filled with fireflies. But then again…  
“Fairies!” Wendy gasped. One hundred newborn fairies yawned awake from their birthing sleep, and the room was illuminated. They both looked about at the tree house. The Never tree had long sprouted from the floor and now burst through the ceiling into what Wendy imagined to be the tallest canopy in all of Neverland. Toys, weapons, skin pelts, and other such bric a brac was all strewn around the room carelessly. Without a mother to tell Peter to clean his room, he really hadn’t bothered. But it seemed that Peter had not been here for a long while. The spiders had taken over every corner that the room provided. Now the fairies were getting stuck in them, and they cried out as they fought with the spiders and shooed them out of their webs to turn them into fairy hammocks.  
Peter was clanking away through his pile of things. Slingshot here, head-dress there… until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the sword from the rubble in the way he imagined King Arthur to draw the sword from the stone, but was sorely disappointed when he realized the sword was not as large and menacing as he had remembered.  
“Huh…” He said. Curious that the sword seemed so small in his hand. Naturally he did not think much of it. But it did strike him as odd. Nevertheless, it was his sword and he was happy to have it. Wendy found another among the rubble and it suited her just fine. Tying a belt around her waist, she tucked the sword in between as a makeshift sheath. Peter slid his blade between the vines of his tunic. He was a bit put out with how this adventure had turned out. But to Wendy, it seemed a miraculous adventure. She listened in on the fairies and tried to understand their bell-like language. Suddenly she remembered Tinkerbell.  
“Peter, where is Tinkerbell?” She asked.  
“Who?” He responded. He had already forgotten her and fairies don’t live very long. Wendy sighed. How easy Peter forgot such a dear friend to him. How easy would it be for Peter to forget her, she wondered? Her chest tightened with the thought. But he had come back for her, and he had not forgotten. Not yet, anyways.  
The fairies began to scatter and leave the underground dome to infest the rest of Neverland. The home became dimmer and dimmer as the sun set.  
When they emerged from Tootle’s tree they were burdened with loot. Bottles of supposed magic sand, peace pipes, torn stockings, and bows and arrows all clanked and clacked in their arms. Night had fallen and to Wendy’s delight, the fairies followed them.  
“Peter…” She said turning about her to watch them fly about.  
“Yes?”  
“Where did the fairies come from?”  
“The very first laugh of every child breaks apart into a million pieces. That is where the fairies come from.” He responded  
“You don’t mean to tell me that that was the first time you have ever laughed.”  
“No.” He chuckled. “But Wendy, I am an extraordinary boy! I have my first laugh still. Right here!” He said opening his mouth for her to see.  
“Oh.” Wendy said skeptically. But she could remember there being so many more fairies in Neverland. Wendy was so preoccupied with them she did not care to see where Peter was leading them. Just for fun, Peter began to walk about in circles to see how long it would take Wendy to notice. He laughed heartily when after the third round she made a fuss of it.  
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” She asked.  
“Well of course!” He cried. “And you are going to love it, as roses grow on it for real, now!”  
In his excitement to show her, he began to run. Wendy followed best as she could, but felt some items fall from her arms. Clunk clank… there went a slingshot, and then a bottle of sand, Oh, well. At least her load was lightened. When Peter finally stopped, they were exactly where she suspected. The little house Peter had built for her stood perched on another little Nevertree that dared to grow beneath it. Peter had to climb two branches up just to get to the front door. And as promised, a climbing rose overtook an entire side of the little house. She gasped at the wonder of it. When Peter reached the door, the wonder was diminished as Wendy saw how little the house really was. There was no way that they could store all of their newfound loot there, let alone both sleep under its tiny roof. Peter did not seem too fussed about it, and he threw his load inside of the house then turned and bowed towards Wendy, holding the door open for her. He smiled from ear to ear, proud to show Wendy the house he had built for her (although we will say with discretion that Peter mostly supervised whilst all of the Lost Boys did the hard work of imagining the house together).  
Wendy climbed the two branches to go through the little door that Peter held open so proudly. She had to duck to enter. The inside of the house seemed even less roomy then the outside.  
“Is this where we are supposed to sleep?” Wendy asked skeptically. Peter furrowed his brow.  
“Yes.” He said matter-of-factly. “Unless you’d like to sleep outside to be captured by Captain Hook again.” He joked. He had meant to be funny, but the thought of being back on the Jolly Roger frightened her greatly. Wendy did not bother to place the goods she carried inside of the house, and instead dropped them down to the field below. Peter scattered the objects he had taken around to the corners of the house, leaving a small oval for him to lay. He laid out there kicking more objects over so that he could stretch out his long legs, and horribly, he invited Wendy next to him. She squeezed herself between his shoulder and the wall, feeling all the while a wooden spoon poking at her rib. She looked up to see right through the chimney made out of a hat with the top punched out, and could see a few Neverland stars. Now and again, a fairy would dart across it. This certainly would be a long night, she thought. Peter, on the other hand, could not be more chuffed about the company. He tentatively slipped him hand inside of Wendy’s and squeezed gently.  
“Good night, Wendy.” He said yawning.  
“Good night, Peter.” She responded.  
Wendy looked up again at the stars and gasped, as she could have sworn she saw an iron hook unclench itself from the top of the makeshift chimney. She squeezed Peter’s hand tightly.  
It would be a long night, indeed.  
Chapter Five  
Wendy did not sleep well that night. She was haunted by nightmares of Hook slashing at her and being hunted by pirates. She was screaming in her dreams ‘Peter, Peter!’ But he would not come.  
Wendy did not know that she was screaming Peter’s name out for real, or she would have been horribly embarrassed. Peter was awakened several times answering ‘yes?’ and when she did not reply he got terribly annoyed. Yet he could not help giving her hand a squeeze every time she shouted it.  
The next morning he found their hands still clasped, albeit sweaty. He slowly uncurled his fingers from hers and wiped his hand on his leaves. Wendy awoke, equally unhappy about the sweatiness of her hand, but more unhappy with how tired she felt. It had seemed to her that she had been actually running from pirates instead of just dreaming about it.  
Peter wanted to adventure with her, to explore the catacombs more, but Wendy was not feeling fit for fun. She was dreadfully tired and was sad to realize that Neverland was not half as enchanting as it had been. Her heart hurt. She missed her home, she missed her brothers, she missed her mother. So instead of adventuring with Peter, she insisted she stay in the little house to be alone. Peter was none too pleased. He complained heartily when she rejected his company, and he rolled his eyes at her when she mentioned the missing of her mother. The altercation resulted in each one of them stamping their foot and shouting ‘Fine!’ at one another.  
“Girls and their alone time…” Grumbled Peter as he took his sword and left the house. He swung it carelessly into the brush, slicing mercilessly into the greenery in agitation.  
Wendy took out her frustration as well by emptying the house of the junk Peter had collected the night before and drawing a white line in the middle of the home with her name written neatly to one side.  
A soft knock happened on the door.  
“Who is it?” She asked politely. Could it be Peter to apologize? No. It was not in his character. Then…  
“Wendy Darling.” Snaked Hook’s voice. “I kindly request an invitation to your company.” Wendy remained silent as if he would simply go away if unanswered. Then horribly, a handless wrist, scarred and ugly poked itself underneath the door frame.  
“I come unarmed, Wendy. Simply a word.” Wendy gasped at the ugly limb, and Hook chuckled at his own terrible joke.  
“You may not be armed, but I am!” She said clutching her sword.  
“So be it.” Said Hook, and the door was softly opened. Hook stepped in with an unusually casual demeanor. He wore no jacket, no pirate hat, no holster for his guns. Simply a shirt and trousers with his long hair pulled back to a tail. Wendy drew her sword and wagged it at him.  
“Unarmed.” He repeated, arms open in submission. “Anyhow, my favorite pistol seems to have run away.” Hook sat down on the floor of the little home as he was too tall to stand within it. Wendy lowered her sword.  
“What do you want?” She asked accusingly.  
“I told you I would be watching you.” He said. “Your job was to keep an eye on Pan to see why it is he can still fly. Have you found anything… interesting?”  
“Not a thing.” She spoke. “And anyways why should I tell you?”  
“Because your life depends on it, girl. Are you sure that you have heard nothing of interest?” Wendy slowly shook her head no, and Hook’s eyes glowed with fury as he balled his fist tightly, then took a deep breath to collect his demeanor.  
“Well, it just so happens that last night fairies appeared from a very tall Nevertree. Fairies haven’t been spotted in Neverland for years.” He looked to Wendy to encourage more information from her. She turned her head to look out the small window, as if what he was saying was nothing of interest.  
“… and what is the secret to flying…?” He asked baitedly. She shrugged. He lost his cool grabbed the torn collar of her nightdress to shake her in anger. “Fairy dust! You insolent youth!” He shouted, spraying furious spittle at her. Wendy still held her sword and she held it now pointing straight underneath Hook’s jaw. She could skewer him like a kabob now if she wanted to, but her hands took to shaking. Hook noted the sword and backed away from her.  
“It is a good thing that you are stupid.” Hook said with residual anger. He began to pull objects out of pockets hidden inside his shirt and pants. First, he pulled out the treasure map that she had made for Peter. Then the small jar of sand Wendy had dropped on the way to the little house. Then the pistol that she had stolen from him. “I told you that I would be watching.” Wendy became speechless. Hook took the pistol and aimed it straight at Wendy’s nose. She could smell the powder from it.  
“Where did the fairies come from, Wendy?” He asked, suddenly calm.  
“His… his…f-f-…” She stuttered with fear.  
“Good, yes! His first laughter. Thank you for your cooperation.” Hook replaced the pistol in his shirt and took the bottle of sand. He bit the cork from the top, provided he only had one hand, and poured out its contents onto the floor. “Now that we are in cahoots, I would ask for your further cooperation.” Hook shoved the jar into Wendy’s hand.  
“Make him laugh. I’m sure you can find some creative ways to do so, then capture it in that jar there.”  
Wendy gripped the jar and looked tentatively inside it. Could laughter truly be captured?  
“If you fail, you will find yourself on the deck of the Jolly Roger faster than a bullet form my gun. Understand?” He threatened. She nodded. “Good.” He said smiling. Then he took on an extravagant air and stood (although ducked) to bow gracefully towards Wendy.  
“Thank you for your kind invitation into your… home.” Hook said, turning to walk out the door and close it gently shut. Wendy was left dumbstruck with the bottle still in her hand. She was almost certain she would fail, for how could laughter truly be captured? 

Chapter Six  
Peter stood in the dusty, webbed interior of the underground treehouse. He had run all the way there. He did not know why he was so angry, but he could not contain himself. This was not how he thought it would be with Wendy in Neverland. He remembered the fun that they had before. He remembered their kiss, then shook his head free of the thought. Peter had wanted to have things as they were before Wendy left. He wanted to know what happens after the kiss. But she had asked to leave, and she took the others with her. Why, why? Why had Wendy wanted to go home? Time had stood still for Peter after that, but not for the rest of the world.  
It had been a while since Peter had access to his old home, and as he walked through it, he felt it had become quite small. Maybe it was the Nevertree’s trunk, widened with its age and growth, that made the space feel cramped. But then again, his head almost touched the ceiling. He sat upon his throne made of sticks. It no longer felt large and empowering. Now, it was simply a chair for him to sit upon. I must have grown, said a small voice inside him.  
“No!” He screamed out loud. Everything began to feel small about him; the weaponry, his breath, the light. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep away things feeling small, but in the darkness of his eye lids he saw the barred window and he found he could not escape this horrible feeling. It was a most unimaginable pain. To a boy so accustomed to make-believe, feelings that did not go away however hard you imagined were highly unwelcome. The feelings came upon him hard and mercilessly, along with memories long buried by fun and adventure.  
Suddenly, he was a child again. Not a boy as he was or is, but really a child. An infant in fact, and only one week old. His small feet kicked beneath a long and beautiful nightdress. He looked up to see the face of Mother. She smiled at him, and he laughed his first laugh. It was an extraordinary laugh, and he was filled with so much laughter that he kicked his small baby feet to fly about the room. I am a bird! He thought. I am a bird!  
Then he flew straight out of the window, but then again, Peter was not flying out of windows, he was sitting in his little chair. He did not mean to imagine he was a child, but pretending was second nature to him and he could not help remembering things just as they were as if he was living through them once more.  
Peter closed his eyes again, and Solomon Caw, Kensington Garden’s most prestigious thrush, asked whatever he was doing in the Gardens at night. I am a bird! Peter had answered. But no, Caw replied, Peter was a boy and in remembering such, Peter found he could no longer fly. Trapped on the small island by the park, he watched as other children played without him. Day after day they played, and he wished dearly to join them. He tried to imitate playing with the birds, but they would have none of it. His small nightgown grew shorter over his legs, or rather, his legs grew longer under it.  
A small tear left his eye, and when it slid away from his cheek and onto the dirt below, a small rose began to grow. Yes, Peter was an extraordinary boy, after all. He rested his head upon the tall back of the chair and more tears followed down his cheeks. He could not stop them, nor did he try very hard to. Even if he closed his eyes they would sneak through. He remembered pain that he had wholly believed he had never experienced. He remembered feelings, too. As Peter sat in the little chair crying, he stopped remembering and began to dream.  
It was a dreadfully real dream as it disguised itself horribly into a potent memory. The fairies had just given him the power to fly; To go back home. It was the most exhilarating flight he would ever take. In his young mind he dreamed of the wonderful boy he would be to his mother. How glad she would be to see he had come home. He could almost feel her embrace. Peter was ready to grow up. He flew up the building. One, two, three flights of windows, until he came to that very special one. He softly opened the shutters to not alarm his mother inside, but found instead the iron bars. They were cold as he placed his small hands around them and shook them tentatively. It was Lock Out time.  
“Mother!” He cried, but nothing stirred inside the home, save for a small form tucked into the bed. He knew before he saw it what it was. It was the new boy, the one who replaced him. After all, this was mostly a memory and Peter knew exactly what happened next. But it was also a dream, so the little boy did not wake up to call for its mother; Peter’s mother. Instead he saw that it was a girl. It was Wendy. His heart was shot with feeling.  
“Wendy!” He began to cry out. “Wendy, Wendy!” Wendy sat up from her bed, and she gasped at the sight of him. A flying boy! The feelings came harder and Peter began to feel heavy. Peter began to fall from the window, his hands gripping onto the iron bars.  
I want to go home. Spoke Wendy through the window. Then Peter let go of the bars heavy and sad.  
Peter fell, ever faster, the ground growing larger and larger until…  
He awoke with a start.  
Roses had sprouted all around his feet and he wiggled their little leaves between his toes. The fairies he had unleashed into the tree were flittering about, finding corners to live in and making furniture from his discarded items. Even Tinkerbell’s nook had new occupants. Peter sighed and sat heavily back into the chair. He did not want to leave. He did not want to see Wendy. In fact, he simply wanted to disappear.  
Chapter Seven  
Peter is the epicenter of all Neverland, and when in foul mood, the island turns to foul weather. It was just as well, since Wendy’s mood was rather sour as well. She held the empty bottle and wondered what to do. She felt Hook’s presence everywhere, now. Feeling his eyes and spies all around her. Strangely, she did not mind the task set out for her by Hook, she was also just as curious about Peter’s nature. Could his laughter truly be captured? If she believed it could, she would never have tried.  
The wind had turned cold and bothersome plunks of raindrops peppered the air. The canopy of the forest dropped then menacingly on her head as she walked about searching for Peter. It was not hard to guess where he had ventured, he had left a brazen path of cut undergrowth for her to follow. She slipped down Tootle’s tree to see Peter dimly lit by the fairies now in residence, looking at him in a strange and careful way.  
“He’s having one of them moments…” One fairy murmured, and Wendy was surprised to understand.  
“What did you say?” She asked it again, but then all she heard was foreign ringing again.  
Peter sat, slumped in his chair that once was a throne. Roses grew up the legs of the chair, and even the legs of Peter, she could see that he had been crying. She needn’t approach him for him to know she was there.  
“Leave me be…” He whispered darkly. It was a strange mood that Peter was in.  
“Peter…” She said approaching him with a consoling hand. Peter covered his face to hide the evidence of his tears.  
“I said go away!” He moaned through muffled hands. Wendy felt a sharp pain in her somewhere, and realized that she could not go away as he wished. Instead she knelt beside him and placed a hand upon his shoulder. Peter tried to pretend to not be soothed by the gesture, but he had very little pride at his dispense and could not help leaning towards her.  
“What’s the matter?” She whispered. Peter took his hands from his face and placed one on top of Wendy’s on his shoulder.  
“I don’t know.” He said. He had stopped crying, but felt empty and queer. His usual habit of tossing away unhappy thoughts did not come to him so easily now. Now, he felt them all around him, and worse still, he felt they had always been around him, but he had never paid them any mind.  
“Would you like to hear a story?” Wendy suggested. It always cheered her up some, but Peter shook his head again. “Would you like me… to go away?” She asked with small dismay. He looked down at her now and shook his head again. In fact, he could not believe he had asked her to go away before, as her hand on his shoulder felt his only comfort at the moment. They looked at each other for a long while, now. Peter’s thumb rubbed small circles on Wendy’s hand. It was a form of affection he had never shown her, and she was moved further when he pulled her hand from his shoulder and lay a heavy kiss upon it appreciatively. As much as Wendy enjoyed the affection, she could not help sensing how very strange it was. She pulled her hand away gently.  
“Peter… what is the matter?” She asked again, now more concerned than before. Again, he shook his head. He could not, and would not tell her. Wendy, defeated, looked about herself and spotted the jar. It would certainly not be filled with laughter today. She went to fetch it.  
“Take this jar, Peter. It is a magic jar.” Wendy said, placing the jar into his hands. “You speak your troubles into it, and then you stop it with a stopper and throw it into the sea. Never to see your troubles again!” Peter turned the jar in his hand tentatively. He loved it when Wendy made normal things magical, and in a strange way, he was eager to try it out. He was ready to shed his unhappy thoughts. A small smile came upon him.  
“Alright.” He said. “But you can’t look.”  
“Oh, I would never!” Wendy said, turning and facing the wall of the house. She looked tentatively back at him and he gestured that she should plug her ears. She did, a bit reluctantly, but saw that all the fairies had turned their heads to best eavesdrop on Peter’s imminent confessions.  
She could hear him breathe into the jar, and he began with ‘once upon a time’.  
It would be lovely to say that Wendy had heard all of his confession, particularly the bit where he admitted some strong feeling towards her. But alas, her ears were plugged and she only dared to unplug them once she was sure that he was absorbed in his confessing. But once she began to listen, she could not bear to plug her ears again. Peter Pan finally revealed himself to her. He worked his way backwards, from Neverland before Wendy all the way back to his time in Kensington Gardens, whose unhappy memories were the most vile and bothersome to him. He told the jar everything. From finding the lost children in the park and burying them two by two, to watching the children of the park play happily with him abandoned on the small island across the river. Most dastardly he told the jar of his greatest crime. Thinking that his Mother would always be waiting for him. Staying in the park far beyond the time he should have, thinking his lovely mother would never forget him there. Then terribly, the Lock Out time.  
Peter stopped the jar, and waited to feel happy again. To his dismay, he only felt bare. He took in a deep sigh.  
“It didn’t work, Wendy.” He said.  
“Not even a little?” She responded, turning towards him. He shrugged.  
“Well, maybe a little.” And he smiled a small smile. Peter walked towards Wendy and placed the jar into her hand. “I have one more confession.” Wendy looked to him.  
“Oh?” Secretly, she hoped it would be a confession of feeling. It was the one thing she yearned the most from him.  
“I know that I am growing up.” He said softly.  
“Oh.” Wendy said, a bit put out. “Yes, I know.”  
“But I don’t want to! I want to keep on pretending.” He said now taking hold of her hand. “I want it to be like it was before you left. Will you keep pretending with me?” Peter looked at her with pleading eyes and she could not bear to say anything but ‘yes’ although she was not quite sure if she wanted to be pretend with Peter anymore.  
“Yes.” She said anyways, and he was so glad that he kissed her fully on the lips. It was such a surprise to her that she had no chance to react or appreciate the precious thing he gave to her, and he pulled away before she could even return it.  
Chapter Eight  
When they emerged from the treehouse, the sun was shining on the sodden leaves of Neverland. Wendy walked behind Peter and studied his back. He was happy once more and he strutted proudly down the path. Something felt very strange and different as she walked and at first she believed it was the kiss that Peter had given her just moments before, but as she walked she did not feel the familiar bouncing of the acorn on her chest. The acorn was no longer there. Peter’s kiss had disappeared. He had not given her a kiss in the treehouse; he had taken it away. She stared glumly behind her, hoping to see she had dropped it. But it seemed all too clear to her that Peter had regretted ever giving her a kiss in the first place and he must have done it backwards just now to undo it. Peter jumped in puddles and shook trees as they walked, releasing showers of water from their leaves. It seemed to Wendy that Peter had returned completely to his old self while Wendy held on to the jar and wondered if she should really throw it into the ocean. Then a rasp rang out through the woods, a most peculiar bird call. A flash of red and blue feathers darted past, and oddly a small, wooden leg. Hook’s parrot. Peter stopped suddenly and made to grab Wendy towards him, but it was just then that the bird croaked out a signal. Four pirates leaped from the bushes behind Peter, and another behind Wendy, sweeping her off of her feet, jar and all. Peter drew his sword to fight them, but to his surprise, the Pirates ran, full legged with their prized captor. Peter turned red with rage and flew after them in pursuit.  
“Starboard side!” Yelled the one who carried Wendy, and a shot rang out into the canopy followed by Peter’s devious laughter.  
“Missed me!” He crowed back. Wendy could not see him as she was bouncing wildly in the pirate’s arms. They kept running towards the shore and three more shots rang out.  
“Missed again!” Sang Peter from the treetops. Then suddenly one more shot, and no bragging followed.  
“Peter!” Yelled Wendy as she twisted in the pirate’s grasp. She looked around wildly, searching for a sign of him, but she could see nothing. The band of Pirates burst from the forest cover and onto the sandy beach, and Wendy knew that Peter, alive or not, could not risk flying so brazenly over clear skies. Wendy was once more captured by Pirates.  
Up the plank to the deck of the Jolly Roger they went, but this time, Wendy was put down carefully on her feet, still clutching the jar. It had somehow not bounded from her grip during her kidnapping.  
“Welcome aboard, Lady Wendy.” Smee said from behind the hulking form of Noodler. He wiped his hands on his little smock and it was clear that he had been cooking just seconds before. In fact, Wendy now noted a sweet smell in the air, something like roast ham. Smee bowed politely to her, and he cleared his throat to the others to do the same. The whole crew then proceeded to bow to her, although it was clear that for some of the pirates, it was their first attempt. Unsure of her circumstance, she curtsied back.  
“The Cap’n would like to know if you would join him for dinner?” Smee said, gesturing to the cabin door behind him. It was half ajar, and Wendy could now hear the soft tinkling of a harpsichord. The rest of the crew looked at her with salivating mouths. They, too, wished they were invited. But it seemed to Wendy that this was not an invitation, as she had not the option to decline it. Instead it seemed to be most advantageous to cooperate fully. She swallowed her pride.  
“I would be delighted.” She mummbled. Smee could not contain his delight and clapped his hands in pleasure. He offered her his arm to her in such a gentlemanly way that she nearly saw past his pirate exterior. She took it and he did not lead her to the cabin, instead he led her to a small adjacent room in which she was presented once more with the scarlet dress.  
“Oh.” Wendy gasped. She had forgotten all about it, and for a moment felt guilty for abandoning the garment, then she remembered she was being held captive as a dinner guest.  
“I’ve taken it in a bit.” Smee said already shuffling the dress above her head. Smee had a talent with all things domestic, and it buttoned snugly about her.  
“And look, pockets!” He bragged, as he carefully plucked the jar from her hand and into a new pocket. She thought of Peter, and a sharp pain pierced her in the chest.  
“Oops!” Smee said apologetically as he plucked a forgotten pin from the breast of the dress. “Sorry, my Lady.”  
Now dressed (although barefoot) Wendy was led to Hook’s cabin. She saw Hook playing absent mindedly on his harpsichord.  
“Cap’n, the Lady has arrived.” Smee said softly. Hook made to turn around as if he were taken by surprise, but the dramatism in his action, and the way he said “Oh!” gave away that this was a planned entrance.  
“Forgive my passion for music.” He said haughtily, and he gestured to Wendy to sit at the extreme of the table. Smee scrambled to pull her chair and then pushed it in neatly as Wendy sat down. Hook sat on his own at the other end of the table, fluttering a napkin enthusiastically upon his lap. To her horror, Wendy saw Smee slip out of the room and shut the door firmly. Alone with Hook. Before her there was a plate covered by an elegantly inlaid metal cover. Hook had an identical one before him, although his had a hole as if someone had fired a shot in it by accident.  
“Dear Wendy, you look ravishing this evening.” Hook said looking over her. She could not return the compliment, and when she did not, Hook raised his glass of red liquid.  
“A drink, to celebrate our comradery.” He announced. He did not wait for Wendy to raise hers, and simply gulped it down heavily, hastily pouring himself another. “I had never thought that you and I…” He smiled to himself. “Please, Wendy Darling enjoy your dinner.” Hook uncapped his plate and lavished in the smell of roast pork with pineapple glaze and roasted roots. Wendy gulped as it did look a delicious meal, but her mind screamed ‘poison’. She uncovered her plate nevertheless, and could not resist a small carrot. The moment that she bit into the carrot, Hook began to devour his meal, taking care to never raise his elbows and always to pat his mustache with a napkin. When Wendy felt no ill effect from the carrot she slowly began to join in the feast. When the main course was consumed, Hook went right on to bread and cheese, plucking grapes into his mouth with lavish. Wendy sat silently across him, still unsure of why she was being treated to dinner so kindly. When Hook pushed the plate of cheese towards her for her to enjoy, she bravely asked.  
“Captain…” Wendy asked softly. “Why have you invited me here tonight?”  
“A little bird told me that you have succeeded in filling the jar.” Hook said between munching.  
“Oh. Well…” She said unsure.  
“You have filled the jar, have you not?” Hook asked in a warning tone. He looked at her with suspicious eyes and pulled the plate of cheese away from her.  
“Oh, yes.” She said. The jar was not exactly filled with laughter, but at least she had the jar. Smiling once again, Hook happily pushed the plate towards her once more. Although she was not lying to Hook, she suddenly knew that her safety depended on whether or not the jar would make Hook fly. She was almost certain that it would not. Now Wendy looked anxiously through the small circular window of the cabin to see if Peter was here to rescue her. Then she remembered the silence after the shot.  
She was not hungry anymore, and she needed to buy herself time. Time to think of an escape, a ruse, anything. It was of good fortune then, that Wendy was accustomed to droll and endless dinner conversation.  
“Captain, what do you wish to do when you learn to fly?” She asked. Hook gleamed at the question, and to Wendy’s delight, sat back comfortably in his chair in preparation for one his famed soliloquies.  
“I will escape this dreaded island.” He began. “And venture back to London, where rules and form are appreciated. Instead of the silly whimsical abomination that is Neverland.”  
“You are from London as well?” Wendy said with a small bite of cheese, her appetite returning.  
“Yes, my dear. I imagine you are familiar with the Kensington Gardens. We are all from there, naturally, for that where all of this began. I played in the gardens as a boy. I only pretended to be a pirate back then.” He said chuckling as he emptied yet another cup of wine.  
“Have you always wanted to be a Pirate?” She asked, as if she had asked about his work at the post office. He chuckled darkly.  
“No, Wendy, I wanted to be a school teacher.” Wendy nearly spit her drink at this. At first, because she had accidentally taken a sip of the 30-year-old rum offered to her in the cup, but really because she imagined Hook’s dark face in the place of her own teacher. It was a horrifying thought. Hook was now wholly lost to fantasy.  
“Imagine, whipping all those dirty rotten boys across the backs of their hands. Making them stand on stools for the whole day for defiance… how glorious to be a school teacher, but alas.” Hook said sighing. He emptied his cup for a third time, and hiccupped.  
“Do you not think I would make an excellent teacher, Wendy?” It was very hard for Wendy to lie but she did it anyways, and nodded. It was then that a form pass quickly over the window. Wendy gasped, as it had been mostly green. Peter! She thought. Hook turned swiftly around to look in the direction of her gaze and stood rather too quickly for a man in his cups and almost fell right back over. Suddenly there was a ruckus on deck.  
“He’s -hic- here!” He exclaimed. Hook’s eyes turned suddenly red as he drew a pistol, and Wendy shrank into her chair as he pointed it straight at her. “Hand over the jar, Wendy!” He bellowed. So much for comradery, Wendy thought. Hook rushed at her and groped at her dress in search. Wendy fell over with his weight and Hook took advantage by seizing her wrist in his Hook and planting it firmly into the wooden planks of the floor while his one good hand searched fervently for the jar, a weight concealed in the skirts by Smee’s clever little pocket. Hook’s drunkenness did not help his pursuit but he found the jar nonetheless and pulled it out winningly just as a mighty kick smacked the door of the cabin open.  
Some things happened very quickly then, starting with Peter bursting into the room. Firstly, Pan lost his temper at seeing Wendy trapped beneath Hook, then Hook cackled as he held up the jar which was supposed to contain laughter, but actually contained nothing, but happened to glow orange anyways. Wendy beheld the orange glow and gasped as she believed for a moment Hook may actually fly, then turned to see if Peter had recognized the jar as the one she had advised to speak into, and thought that Peter had lost his temper at her and not at Hook. At this she uttered ‘I’m sorry!’ but no one registered her apology as Hook bit the cork off the jar to pour the contents over his head. Peter, completely dumbfounded but curious as to what Hook meant by this stopped to observe. Hook’s eyes suddenly watered, and his nose scrunched up into his face as a horrific stench filled the room.  
“Flatulence!” Hook screamed with fury, hooked hand raised to strike. “You’ve filled it with-“ But then Wendy was not there. Peter deftly plucked her from the ground just as Hook had released her wrist and out the little window they went holding their noses and laughing all the way.  
Chapter Nine  
They flew back to the little house leaving a trail of fairy dust. Every time Peter remembered Hook’s crumpled nose he would burst again with laughter and fairies would bound from all around. Wendy tried very hard to stop laughing as she could feel herself slipping from Peter’s grip every time he burst, but she felt she could not contain herself and began to cry with the effort. When they finally landed at the little house, the Nevertree had grown another 10 inches at least, and it was twilight.  
“Flatulence!” Peter wheezed as he landed, and proceeded to roll about the grass in a flurry of laughter and fairy dust. Wendy tried to contain herself but chortled and laughed anyways and rolled about the grass with Peter. For a while they were consumed by their glee until slowly their laughter faded and they were blissfully showered by the night sky and the flickering of fairies. Peter looked to Wendy and felt he had never been so happy in all his days and felt compelled to roll over and kiss her once more, but as he rolled over to do so, Peter was met with her cheek instead of her lips. She had not forgotten the painful backwards kiss he had given her, and could not bear to part with her hidden kiss as well as her thimble.  
“Why won’t you kiss me, Wendy?” He asked.  
“It’s called a thimble, isn’t it?” She responded. Then Peter remembered that it really was called a thimble but he had known it as a kiss. Yes, a kiss. Of course, it was a kiss! His mother gave him kisses. He even knew deep inside of himself that he had given Wendy a kiss all along, and not a thimble but he had pretended not to know any better. Outwardly, he had not grown at all since Wendy’s arrival, but inwardly he struggled with himself. Kisses had been forgotten by him as a means to rid himself of the memory of his mother, but in remembering his mother Peter remembered kisses quite well. He could no longer pretend to not be aware of them, or deny pining after them. And yet, Wendy had denied him of kisses just as his mother had. Peter shuddered as the image of the barred window reared itself to the front of his mind. He could almost picture Wendy was on the other side, instead of his mother.  
“Wendy, where do you get your letters?” Peter asked her in sudden seriousness.  
“My letters?” She asked in shock, “I-… 3 Rue de Regard London England.” Peter responded with a loud sigh.  
“Thought so.” He said rolling onto his back. “The threes look like this?” Peter drew a curly shape with his fingers on the tapestry of night sky and Wendy whispered ‘yes’, forgetting that Peter really could not read or count much at all. The fairies dispersed above them to reveal the twinkling of stars.  
“Why do you ask, Peter?” He thought carefully on how to reveal it, but decided the best way was to reveal it backwards.  
“Do you know why I came to your window, Wendy?” He asked. Wendy had no answer. She had never thought on it before. Wasn’t it just lucky that Peter had come by her nursery? “Don’t you visit lots of windows in London?”  
“No. Only one. I only visit my window.” He turned to look at her now to spy her reaction. “I had forgotten that it was my window.” He pressed on. “I had forgotten that thimbles were kisses.” A very strange feeling overtook him then, and Peter felt he was looking out on himself instead of from himself. He turned away from Wendy as he could not bear looking at her any longer. She bore such resemblance to his mother now that he was angry at her. He felt hurt by her, truly wounded. Wendy turned towards him to try to cheer him by whispering ‘flatulence’ in his ear, but it only caused him to leak from his eyes some small tears. Peter could not help but think of only three words.  
Alone and unloved.  
Hook’s moustache, despite his good form and excellent composure, was left frayed menacingly by the antics of Pan. The stench of Peter’s putrid unhappy thoughts had soaked quite terribly in his prized facial hair. He rinsed and scrubbed at his lip to rid himself of it but still it remained, right under his nose. It was with great sadness then that the crew gathered round with their caps clenched in their hands in mourning, as Smee, with shaking hands shaved off Hook’s glorious moustache.  
“You’ll pay for this, Pan…” Mumbled Hook beneath a layer of shaving cream whilst he cried a very special tear. A member of the crew, surprisingly one that has not been introduced thus far, plucked the tear quickly from Hook’s cheek to slip it into a familiar vial. Some of the pirates were so moved by this that they began to howl with crying, and another set off Long Tom in a three-volley salute which scared poor Smee so badly he nearly decapitated the Captain with his razor. Hook quickly scrambled from the chair and wiped the remaining cream from his face.  
It is now that Hook reveals his face to his crew for the first time. It was evident now why Hook hid such a lip beneath hair as it was so pleseantly curved as a cupid’s bow, and although heavily unused, a smart little dimple punctured his left cheek. I made him seem so child-like. But the crew did not dare mention. Save one.  
“Why Captain, you look so handsome.” The un-named pirate spoke, and to the amazement of the crew, they were rewarded with a blush.  
“Bugger off, you slimy worm. It’s to scrubbing the latrine for you!” Hook growled with diminished authority. The crew all scrambled, then, but it would be hard to forget that glorious little dimple. And for days after the crew rumored about how Hook could have received it. This caused great commotion as the Captain had a bad habit of sneezing every time someone spoke about him behind his back.  
“He was shot in his face by his Mother.” One claimed. Achoo! Came a great sneeze from beneath the deck.  
“He bit his lip while eating jerky real hard!” Said another. Ah…. Achoo! Sniff… came another from portside. But the unnamed pirate scoffed at them and said matter of factly,  
“You fools, don’t you know where dimples come from? It’s the hole left over when a hidden kiss has been given and not received.” The crew looked about unsure, as they, too, had never heard of kisses. A great number of blows could be heard through a handkerchief below deck.  
“You dolts, the captain had been jilted!” He said rolling his one good eye. The pirates then all said ‘Ah!’ as if they had solved a great mystery, and then they all sneezed at once. It served them right.  
In fact, there was so much gossip about them that the whole ship came down with colds.  
Chapter Ten  
There had been a strangeness between Peter and Wendy ever since the mention of flatulence, and neither one could speak to the other without some sort of feeling interfering. It had been only once in a while that Peter would experience bothersome feelings with Wendy, but now he felt them always, and even though he knew she must be suffering similarly, he had no idea what to do about it. He wanted to kiss her, really, but could not know if she would reject him again and his pride simply could not take it. No, quite frankly Peter would die rather than be refused another kiss. The pain hurt him still, and at night even though he slept with Wendy quietly by his side he could not bring himself to go to her. Instead, they lay away from each other, neither daring to cross the threshold of the white line. They touched backs and tried to sleep but found that instead they lay awake the whole night listening to the breath of the other as their backs pressed against each other which each inhale.  
After the third night, Wendy began to worry. In the past, Peter would forget his sadness very quickly and never mention it again, but he wore it still like a cloak three days later. She tried to catch eyes with him, but then he would flare up with some sort of redness about him and turn away from her. But as the days passed, the redness about him seemed to dissipate into a melancholy sort of purple, and turned quietly to blue. Now, when Wendy would look into his eyes, he was a grey blue. It hurt her deeply to see him this way, and the worst of it was that when blue, his eyes would search hers and she found that now she could not hold his profound gaze any longer.  
Every morning, they would awake to see the roses had taken over the house. They grew and grew higher over the Nevertree and consumed the little house within it. Now every morning Peter would have to silently cut away the roses from the door so that they may go about their day wandering separately in gloomy daydream. Then one day, Peter did not get up to cut away the roses, and Wendy lay trapped in the house with him as he silently sniffled.  
“Peter…” She whispered towards him. It was the first word she had spoken to him in a couple days and he stopped breathing to listen in on what she would say.  
“Peter should we not leave the house today?”  
“I don’t know… don’t feel much like it.” He said sorrowfully.  
“Will you tell me what’s the matter?” She asked. Peter wished that he could, but he could not express the reasoning behind his sadness, only that he felt it. Instead, he said nothing. Finally, Wendy crossed the white line and lay her arm over him in comfort. He let out the breath he was holding in a sigh. It was dreadfully nice to be held by her. Slowly they fell asleep, a deep kind that they haven’t had since Wendy denied Peter of his kiss, and he awoke the next morning feeling green, which is what Peter usually is.  
Here members of Neverland who have yet to be re-introduced should come into play. What about the Indians?  
Well, since Peter had been so quiet and solemn the past few days, they took to rattling Captain Hook about the strangeness devouring Neverland. For it was not only Peter who had changed, the whole of Neverland changed with it. The fairies had gone away and Tiger Lily suffered a great illness which incapacitated her ability to rule the tribe. Great Big Little Panther mourned as he watched his girl get smaller and smaller until he was quite afraid she may become ‘unborn’. But just last week, the fairies had come back! A great feast was held, and Tiger Lily was given prayers and dances in her honor, but horribly, following the fairy’s return her illness only seemed accelerate it’s consumption. She walked about, now, with moccasins too big for her feet and her head too large for her body. As the condition worsened, the Chief had no choice but to take away her weapons as they grew too large for her hands, and she cried and cried in the largest tantrum Neverland had ever seen.  
“You may get these back…” The chief coddled to her, “When you’ve done a fair share of growing up!” Devastated the Princess rolled about the floor slamming her fists to the ground.  
“No, no, no!” She complained.  
“There, there…” Said her long time retired nanny, Little Stone in Pond. She had grown horribly old, now, as her services had long been retired, but now they were put to use again. Bending over to the shuddering creaks and cracks of her spine she made to pick up the tiny princess to sway her crying away. To the dismay of the tribe, Tiger Lily pulled her thumb into her mouth as she rubbed her ear in the comforting swaddle.  
This urged the tribe to leave their comfortable long house to shake answers out of the Pirates, who recently had shot cannon fire for the first time in nearly a year. Stepping in their usual lightness, the Indians tippy toed their way on board ship in the dead of night. Not trying to cause an actual fight, they aimed to question Hook only. Great Big Little Panther stopped his men and bravely went alone into Hook’s cabin. Approaching the bed, the Chief drew his Tomahawk to look upon James, but he was not prepared for what he would see. The Chief howled a scream and dropped his prized Tomahawk as he scurried out of the cabin. Hook screamed awake, completely unaware of what was happening, and scrambling to cover himself. The whole lot of Indians ran screaming from the ship, as Big Little Panther told the story of Hook’s defiled face and his smart little dimple to his band of shuddering warriors. All of Neverland, it seemed, was under a curse.  
Chapter Nine and a Half  
Captain Hook had been shot from his sleep by the screaming of Indians, and although Hook should be mad with anger, instead he was grateful. He had been roused from an awful nightmare. In his dreams, he had been Peter in Neverland, and he had lost his Wendy. Such awful loneliness he had felt, such terrible likeness. Captain Hook was all too familiar with the feeling of heartache, as his dimple was a sad memory of it, but to feel akin to Peter Pan in the same lonely feeling… Hook could never bear to reveal he had experienced sympathy for the boy. He slid his one good hand over his cheek to twist his moustache in that old comforting way he usually did, and found it to be gone. He had almost forgotten. In its place, Hook felt the hollow spot in his cheek and longed for a kiss.  
“Blast this treacherous island!!!!” He moaned flinging himself from bed. Hook loaded his pistol and went on deck. No one was awake yet, but Hook felt like shooting someone nevertheless.  
“Smee!” He bellowed, but no one came. It had not been the first nightmare the captain had ever had, and the crew was wise to his habit. In anguish he fired three shots into the main mast, which was already peppered with dimples of its own.  
The next day, Hook’s eye were red-rimmed and droopy like a dog. He was especially irritable as the heartache he harbored in his dreams seemed to drag on him the whole day through. It was with great relief that he climbed into bed that night, ready to dream of gunfire and swords and the like. Smee had even made sure to pour him a glass of warmed milk, and to read aloud an expert of War and Peace to lull the Captain. Surely Hook was prepared to sleep a dreamless sleep to wake up refreshed.  
But alas, another terrible dream consumed him, and there were no Indians to save him from it.  
Hook had to dream the whole night through the entire string of unhappy thoughts and memories he had so unwittingly dumped on his head. He began again with Wendy leaving.  
“Nooooo….” Hook moaned in his sleep as she begged Peter, begged him to go home. Betrayal, heartbreak, loneliness… then, since the dream was actually playing backwards, a great moment of fun was had. Prancing, playing, fighting, laughing… until the barred window. Again the heartache! This was Hook’s first time at the barred window as he never before had wished to return to childhood, but in his dream he felt the same longing for Peter’s mother. The same horrid shut out feeling. Hook gazed between the bars and watched Peter’s mother tuck in another son, singing another lullaby which was not his. She sang it backwards, and then the lights went on, and mother walked backwards into the doorway. Hook then felt himself being lifted into the air. Fantastically, flight! The first flight. Hook was filled with longing, happiness, love. He felt light and extraordinary. ‘I am a bird!’ He remembered thinking. ‘I am a bird!’.  
Some unspeakable things happened then. He was in Kensington Gardens, the bane of his childhood, and he was alone with nothing but fairies and common thrushes. No one would play with him. He was strange, dirty, leaf covered. He had no home. He looked at his hands, and they grew smaller before him. A nightgown pulled tightly above his head and it grew longer and longer over Hook’s legs.  
“Look at your nightgown, if you don’t believe me.” Said a voice above him. Hook looked up to see it was a rather large thrush, and Hook felt he knew that his name was Solomon Caw. Hook could feel the words, ‘I am a bird’ echoing in his mind.  
“I think I shall go back to mother,” Hook said timidly in Peter’s voice.  
But Hook hesitated. His arms were not feathered, and he had a nose for a beak. He looked at his hands once again to see they were all fingers and thumbs not suited to grip a branch.  
“Why don’t you go?” the old one asked politely.  
“I suppose,” said Hook huskily, “I suppose I can still fly?”  
You see, he had lost faith. Peter had lost faith in himself.  
“Poor little half-and-half,” said Solomon, who was not really hard-hearted, “you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy days. You must live here on the island always.”

Then graciously, Hook finally awoke. His mind was muddled with revelation. He had discovered something, Hook was sure of it. Except the dream was so potent that Hook could not really remember what it was. He stood slowly, the dream around him still, and he shuffled through the contents carefully. In a daze, he came on deck and wandered like a lost spirit among board. The crew strayed far away from him as it was clear Hook was not in his usual mood. Then, when Hook was looking longingly into the mid-day sky he saw a few birds pass by.  
“I am a bird…” Hook mumbled, almost unconsciously. Then the lightbulb went off.  
“I am a bird!” He bellowed to his crew. They all stared at him bewildered. Finally the pieces came together and Hook’s clever, evil contorted mind began to form a plan to doom his nemesis. It was no matter that Hook had spent the entire night as miserable little Peter, his sympathy for the boy far under weighed Hook’s need to defeat him in whatever way necessary. And anyways, Hook’s childhood had been just a miserable. It was just as well. 

On the other side of the island, things seemed to turn grim. Tigerlily had finally given up on walking, and doing proper business in one’s undergarments. Truly unacceptable for a woman of royalty, especially on her 23rd birthday. Despite the circumstances, a party had long been planned. The celebration would go on. The 23rd birthday is an important time in a woman in the Chippewa clan, as it is the time that a woman must choose for herself a husband. More importantly, for a princess to assume the title of Chief. But it hardly felt like a coronation today, as Great Big Little Panther firmly held onto his headdress as the little princess pulled on the beaded strings.  
“Stop that, now. No! Don’t put that in your mouth… ack.” He moaned pulling a sodden feather from the mouth of the princess. They were sitting in the long house at the very end on their finest woven rugs as a line of blushing, anxious boys filed before them. Eligible bachelors had come from all over the island, from within the Piccaninny tribe and beyond, in hopes to woo her (and her father) for her hand. But the princess would have none of it, and made rude sounds with her mouth as they bowed down to present their family tomahawks. It was of no interest to her, but she did accept a gift of a stuffed bear from one of them. He was short, despite being a full-grown man, with a wide, strong look about him. The chief nearly declared Tigerlily’s acceptance of the gift as an engagement, but the short strong man shook his head and politely declined.  
“Simply a gift for the birthday girl.” He said pinching her cheek. The little princess looked upon him with the darkest and warmest of eyes. In her little mind, she had fallen in love. To stay with custom, the man presented his tomahawk to the Chief, and turned away. What a miserable day.  
On board the Jolly Roger, Hook paced and planned gleefully to defeat his adversary. Never mind that he was exacting unwarranted vengeance towards an innocent 12… or… 15 something year old boy. What was the reason that Hook hated him so much again? His mind was so full of his master plan that he scantly had the brainpower to think on it. No, all he really felt was his anger, and how irritably old he was. His planning took twice as much time as he kept losing track of his thoughts. Why, even on his way to bed he tripped clumsily over a heavy stick of some kind which stubbed his little toe without mercy.  
“Blue Beard’s combinations!” He bellowed, hopping on one foot and falling on his bed. His socks were all holes and patches, and the little toe which stuck out of them began to turn red with swelling. He groaned some more before looking under the bed to see what he had tripped over. At the sight of it, he forgot his anger. A beautifully beaded and feathered tomahawk. Hook knew exactly whose it was.  
His hand found its way to the hollow of his dimple and he smiled his first benevolent smile in years.  
“Tigerlily…” He whispered.  
Oh, but what was the day? Hook thought frantically as he pulled out his pocket watch. It said something ridiculous like April 34th of 1224, but he shook it violently and it seceded to read the most wonderful day it could ever be. Tigerlily’s 23rd birthday. To Hook, there was only one reason for the Tomahawk to be there. Tigerlily had left it for him, she had left it for him to present to her father.  
“Huzzah!” he whispered, before stamping on his boots and flinging on his best jacket. He tucked the Tomahawk into his jacket and felt as a groom should on his wedding day. Hook had never married before. When he emerged from his cabin, he skipped his way off of the ship.  
“Where are you goin’ Capt’?” Asked one of his crew.  
“To meet with the Chief.” Hook said gleefully.  
“The Captn’ has been awful strange lately…” Whispered the unnamed pirate. It wasn’t a big sentence, but to the crew, it sounded a bit like ‘mutiny’. None of them objected, instead, some shook their heads as they watched their strange Captain skip off into the forest. It was time for the him to reclaim a gift given to the wrong person.  
Peter and Wendy had been themselves again, as much as they could be. The long quiet had been broken between them, and they spent a lot of time talking to one another. Surprisingly, they talked about Kensington Gardens. All children in London have some memory of the Gardens, as is it where all babies come from and grow up until the age of eight, when they are whisked off to school. Peter told Wendy about the fairies, and what lovely songs he played for them.  
“Which songs?” Asked Wendy.  
“Oh lots,” replied Peter. “Watch this.” And he took out his pipes to play. Wendy had heard him play before, but this time he closed his eyes and played in earnest. It was a lovely melody, so soft and bright that fairies could not help themselves but to gather round him and dance. From the trees, bushes, and mushroom caps, the fairies all chimed in tune with Peter’s pipes. As if by instinct, each fairy found a partner and placed their arms around each other. There were swirls of lights as they turned in dance so enchanting that Wendy sat upon the grass to look at them. Some fairies kissed, and Peter’s song turned more passionate, dipping into surprising minor scales, and building up by little half notes. He did it all by instinct of course, as he is such an extraordinary boy, and beauty comes so easily to him. The fairies, so engrossed in the beauty of the song, began to leap in each other’s arms. Little bells rang all around, as leaping in one’s arms is an official marriage in fairy. He finished his song, and the fairies all clapped and chimed in appreciation. He bowed graciously to them with a small blush and looked to Wendy who clapped enthusiastically with a tear rolling down her cheek. She had always been in awe of Peter Pan. But now she was truly amazed by him and felt for the first time that maybe she never had deserved his kiss in the first place.  
Peter felt the complete opposite. He looked to Wendy and bowed to her. She smiled and curtsied back. Then Peter offered her his hand.  
"Will you dance with me, Wendy?" He asked. There was no music, but Wendy took his hand nevertheless and he pulled her into his arms. Peter placed his hand on the small of her back. It was an awfully intimate gesture, as he was all leaves and vines, and she was wearing the glorious red gown Hook had garbed her in. It was nothing like the times they had danced as children, when Peter would spin her around so fast she would almost fall down, and Peter always kept the span of his arms between them. Back then, there was no need for Peter to pull her close to him, but now there was. The feelings urged him on. He wanted to dance with Wendy like the fairies did. The fairies, in awe of Peter Pan, began to chime in the same enchanting melody Peter had. And so, Peter and Wendy began to dance. It was strange as Wendy could not tell if she were moving. She looked up to Peter completely paralyzed by the feelings she had for him. She did not know it, but he was paralyzed too. They could manage nothing but small swaying and nervous movement of their hands. Peter felt something wonderful and powerful, a need to kiss her. But not the normal kind, a big kind of kiss. The kind the fairies did.  
“Wendy.” He whispered. “I should like to give you a kiss.” He no longer cared whether she should say no, he only cared to extend the invitation as it seemed proper.  
“If you like.” She said, and he was glad that she did so, because he was going to give her that big kiss no matter what. It was unbearable to contain, and it built up so large in his chest that it made it hard to breath. Wendy closed her eyes and offered her face to him. Slowly and warmly he took her lips between his, and it really was a big kind of kiss. The fairies all cheered, some turned red with embarrassment and hid their faces.  
It was now that Hook had made it to the little clearing where they danced. It was easy to find them as the chiming of the fairy gave them all away. He hooked his claw around a branch to move it from his view. What Hook saw devastated him. He watched as Peter, proud and delicate, gave his kiss to Wendy. Hook watched as Wendy returned it, and it was done. They had done the thing that Hook had always truly envied; they had found love. It made him angry beyond all reason, and his eyes burned on Wendy. He glared at the beautiful dress he had given her, and he completely lost his head. The Captain rushed at them and the fairies all darted in panic, leaving them in the dusty veil of dusk. Wendy and Peter broke their kiss, neither one expecting to see the end of Hook’s pistol on their nose, but Wendy saw it clearly as she broke away from Peter, and Peter unsheathed his sword for the blade to rest on Hook’s throat. Hook was too angry to care if Peter should slice him. All he could manage was a shaking finger on the trigger and the hissing of words between his teeth.  
“Take it off.” He muttered. Wendy was completely perplexed.  
“Wha-.”  
“Take off the dress, Wendy!” He screamed, and his pistol shook more than ever. Peter should have cut his throat right there and then, but something stopped him. It was pity for the captain.  
“Step away from her.” Peter spoke in a strange, intimidating tone. “And we will give you the dress.” Peter tested his blade on Hook’s throat as warning, and the Captain lowered his pistol and stepped backwards, his teeth clenched. Wendy, terrified, struggled to unhook the brackets of the dress. Peter dropped his sword to stand behind her to help her disrobe. He did it so calmly, as if nothing much was the matter, but really, he was still consumed with the kiss he had given her and could not be bothered with starting a fight. The dress fell to the floor, and Wendy once again stood in nothing but her night things. The Captain did not wait for her to step out of the dress and grabbed the garment, nearly tripping her over. He bundled it in his hands, and giving them one last stern look, disappeared back into the forest.  
Alarmed and still blushing, Peter and Wendy looked at each other in awe. It was getting dark, the day was nearly over, and they both now thought of the little house they would share that night.  
The Captain ran through the forest guided by the hog trails leading to the Piccaninny tribe, racing the last traces of sunlight to make it in time for Tigerlily’s 23rd birthday. With the tomahawk beating on his chest he recited what he should say in his head.  
I wish to take your daughter as my wife. I wish to take your daughter as my wife. I wish to take your daughter as my wife.  
Chapter 13  
Peter and Wendy made their way back the little house. They did not say much to one another, instead they thought dreamily about the kiss they had shared in the clearing. Peter would look at Wendy, and then Wendy would blush, and Peter then could not help himself. He would pull Wendy into his arms or push her gently against a nearby tree to kiss her again. He no longer cared about whether he was showing how he felt, in fact, if he could form it into words, he would gladly tell her, but for now, all he had was kisses. When finally, they made it back to their little house, all their feelings showed on their faces, and neither one of them cared. As they laid to sleep, not one respected the white line drawn to separate them, and they held each other quite lovingly.  
Hook had never been nervous for anything, and as he was old and unloved had never considered himself to ever be in this position, but as he thought thoughts about marrying the Princess and falling in love, his knees did not creak as much, and his face lost the lines that marked his ever present grimace. In fact, Hook felt like a nervous college student.  
He made it to the Piccaninny tribe just as the braves were lighting the fires to close the birthday celebrations.  
“Wait!” He cried to them. The braves placed their hands to their knives in preparation for a fight, Hook did not always come in peace. Then, as Hook’s face came into view, they both gasped at the sight. It was true, the rumors about Hook’s dimple was true.  
“I have a gift for the Princess.” Hook said imploringly. “Please, I request an audience with the chief!” Still staring rudely at Hook’s left cheek, the braves led him to the long house. Inside, a ruckus was happening. The young princess was throwing a tantrum on the floor while Great Big Little Panther rolled his eyes at her antics. It was much past her bedtime, but the tribe was still entertaining guests. Young men in their best attire shuffled uncomfortable about, munching on small bites of jerky on a stick. Hook entered in a panic. He had not thought this plan completely through, and only felt the need to act on it. He did not see the princess, as he paid no mind to the wailing child, but made his way towards Great Big Little Panther. He held the dress draped over his hooked arm, and his good hand grasped the Tomahawk in his coat. The room shifted uncomfortably as they thought Hook meant to draw a pistol but froze as they beheld Great Big Little Panther’s family Tomahawk in Hook’s hand. The room now quiet and in awe, Hook made to speak.  
“I wish to… I wish to m-“ But a wailing of a child cut him off. Annoyed, Hook finally addressed the child and at once beheld her brown eyes. It was Tigerlily. The Chief tried to quiet her down but Tigerlily pounded on the ground with her fists.  
“What is the meaning of this?” Hook howled in his gravest tone. The princess looked up at him and opened her mouth in small amazement. “Is this any way for a princess to act on her 23rd birthday? Come, now! What a scene you’re making!” The princess began to garble up words at Hook. Hook shook his finger at her.  
“I cannot understand you when you talk like that!” He retorted, and to everyone’s amazement, the princess held herself up, grew a few inches, and motioned her mouth to speak.  
“I don’t want to mawwy.” She said in a small voice. Hook’s heart cracked a bit at the edges.  
“But Princess, you must marry to become Chief.”  
“I don’t wanna be Chief ei-fer.” She said crossing her little arms. Hook harrumphed in a practiced schoolteacher kind of way.  
“Is this what all of this is about?” He said gesturing to her little body.  
“I’m sthick.” She annunciated, as she grew another head taller. It was Hook’s turn to roll his eyes.  
“You’re not sick, my dear Princess, you’re dramatic.” And as the captain egged her on, the Princess grew to match his challenge. Now she was eight years old, and missing several teeth, while other big ones took over her mouth. Great Big Little Panther gasped in amazement as the whole tribe looked at each other with unknowing shrugs.  
“You don’t know how I feel!” She howled, pushing 12 years old.  
“You never tell me! You never tell anybody!”  
“I hate you!” She bellowed, acne popping up on her face. The tribe groaned at the ugliness of her puberty. Now she had outgrown her baby blanket, and her nanny threw a large shawl above Tigerlily, patting her happily on the shoulders muttering ‘here you are, dear’.  
“You hate me?!” Hook cried, and without his knowledge, Hook lost the grey in his hair. “I should hate you! How could you… why would you…?” Hook now shook the Tomahawk in the air. “Why would you leave me this?!” Tigerlily finished the rest of her growing up as she began to understand Hook’s confusion. Hook, still filled with hope and youth, stared wide eyed at the Princess. The scene was all too familiar.  
“I told you, I don’t want to marry.” She said. And it was awful. It was just as it had happened before. He lowered the Tomahawk, the lines returning to his face.  
“You did not leave this for me in my cabin.” He said knowingly. Great Big Little Panther laughed uncomfortably.  
“So that’s where I left it.” He said chuckling. “Silly me…” Hook did not laugh. In fact, he lost all comeliness in his face. He felt angry, embarrassed, and completely wounded. He threw the dress upon the ground and the Tomahawk with it. Then Hook, with all his strength mustered, pointed at the chief to say the thing he had meant to say all along.  
“I wish,” He bellowed. “to take your daughter as my wife!” And he turned away. No one took the Captain seriously, some chuckled at the idea, and the Chief was too happy to see his grown little girl that he did not note the seriousness in Hook’s tone. Hook had meant to add ‘by any means necessary’, but he had forgotten in his urgency to leave the long house. He left the tribe quite flabbergasted, and all eyes turned to Tigerlily as she repeated to all the young men in the room.  
“I do not wish to marry.”  
Hook disappeared within the trees in the darkness of the night and wrestled with his fury and embarrassment. All he could think of now was Peter’s kiss and it drove him mad. He wished nothing more than to gut the boy, to tear apart his heart and destroy his happiness. Now he knew exactly why he hated Pan so much. He hated Pan because he could still be happy despite the unhappiness in his life.  
Chapter 14  
Hook ran furiously through the forest, his wounded heart sputtering in his chest, blinded by hate for Peter Pan.  
“I am a bird.” Whispered Hook. “I am eagle, I am a sparrow, I am the flight of death…” He repeated. He did this and once in a while took a small hop to test if it would allow him to fly. But Hook was a no-nonsense sort of person and making believe that he was a bird would be just as difficult as convincing Peter Pan that he wasn’t. Hook took a long swig of a flask he had brought for celebration that night and began to sway amongst the trees.  
“I am a bloody pigeon…” He groaned.  
Peter and Wendy awoke the next morning feeling strange. Was it all set right just by kisses? Peter thought it had been, after all, what else could he possibly offer Wendy? But Wendy was disturbed by some small thought.  
“Peter, are we still pretend, you and I?” She asked shyly. Peter thought hard at this and altogether had trouble seeing the difference.  
“I think we are real.” He said, and Wendy was sad to see that he was not altogether sure. This inspired some doubt into Peter, and he felt he could not stay in the house any longer. He stood, kissed Wendy lightly on the cheek, and left the house whispering something about a morning walk. Wendy was worried, but dared not follow, for she feared that Peter would change his mind and declare them pretend again should she bother him.  
Peter strolled about lost in thought. Now that he had stopped stubbornly forgetting his sad past, he could not tell if he were in Neverland, or on that small island across the Serpentine still. Was there Kensington Gardens straight across from the shore? Could he peer through the bridge at the children playing in the park? Real and pretend, all of it, seemed to torment him.  
His thoughts were stopped short as he tripped over a very large red turtle, but as the turtle groaned itself awake from its drunken sleep, Peter could see that it was Hook.  
Hook was thoroughly displeased at all and everything in the world, particularly being awoken by the boy he hated the most. Still swirling from his drink, he turned to face his adversary.  
“So, you finally gave that silly girl your kiss?” He teased. Peter turned red, and Hook pursed his lips teasingly. “What are you going to do now, Pan? Marry her?” Hook chuckled. Peter had never thought of such things. In fact, the idea of marriage and kisses were completely separate in his mind. Hook tried to stand but faltered and fell back down again. For the second time, now, Peter felt pity for the man and held him by the arm to help him up. Hook, knowing good form, thanked his adversary, then thought twice and pushed Peter away, but Hook, being much more unbalanced than Peter, toppled back over instead. He chuckled drunkenly on the ground.  
“She’ll leave you, Pan. They always do.” And Hook found the flask in his coat pocket and turned it over into his mouth, only to throw it away from him when he found that it was empty. “Blast.” He groaned.  
Peter sat down next to Hook, as he was somehow intrigued by what the Captain said. Wendy leaving him? Peter would have thought it preposterous had it not happened before, and now he really did not know for certain.  
“Is it not still worthwhile, to have her for a small time?” Asked Peter. But alas, the boy was so naïve that he did not comprehend the idea of consequence very well. After all, the only consequence for which he was truly aware was staying too long in the Gardens, the Lock Out time. Hook, on the other hand, felt nothing but the dreadfully slow pursuit of time.  
“Certainly not!” Cried Hook. “Don’t you remember how miserable you were when she left?” Ridiculously, Peter had forgotten, but all too quickly he remembered. How did Hook know of such things? Peter wondered. Hook continued mercilessly. “And when she leaves you again, to grow up. She will take her kiss with you. And you, a boy eternal, will have nothing left to offer anyone.”  
The words hit Peter like daggers. Nothing left to offer? Him, the most extraordinary boy? He could hardly believe it, but then again, Peter began to doubt himself. He did not feel so extraordinary anymore.  
“Wendy will always stay with me.” Peter said stubbornly. Hook’s mouth turned up in a sly smile. Like a snake he had baited Peter, and he was curled about him, suffocating his pride.  
“Poor little half-and-half.” Said Hook. “You are just a boy who stayed out too late. You are growing like all little boys do, what is there so fantastic about you?”  
Peter thought of nothing but his fantastic ability to fly, and then Hook saw his chance. He saw the small transformation in Peter, that wonderfulness he possessed of betwixt and between. Two small wings upon his back, and with a sure hand, Hook slashed them clean off. Peter gasped, as he did not know what had stolen away his breath, but then saw horribly bleeding the wings in the Captain’s hand.  
“You must live here on the island, always.” Slithered Hook. Peter stood, and found that he was very heavy indeed. He flew towards Hook with fury, but he could no longer fly, and stumbled before him. Hook cackled and breathed heavily, as if a great weight had been taking from him.  
“Finally!” Hook sneered, and the second horrible thing to ever happen happened. Hook flew. He felt light and free, and he flew. Peter thought to defend himself as Hook was sure to try and kill him, but Hook, finally free from Neverland, could think of nothing more than returning to London.  
Whoosh! Gone in a flash, the captain had fled, and Peter, wingless and heavy, was trapped forever in Neverland.  
Chapter 15

Peter walked back to the small house with his head hung low. Little tears flowed from him, and they landed into little rose patches along the way. The fairies in the trees sighed sadly, and packed little suitcases made of acorn shells. They were fluttering away in great numbers. The trees of Neverland seems to shrink slowly, like grains of sand in a time turner. Slowly, ever so slowly, Neverland shrank. When he reached Wendy at the house, he could do nothing more than lay pitiably at the door, and let his tears fill his ears. Wendy had seen Hook fly through the air, and found she had no words to offer Peter.  
“We are bound here forever.” He told Wendy miserably, and Wendy sighed a great sigh.  
“It is just as well, I suppose.” She whispered back, and Peter was surprised by her coolness.  
“You’re not upset?” He said, the tears flowing faster. “You’re stuck here with me forever.” Wendy could do nothing but kiss him softly on the lips.  
“No, Peter, I am not upset.” And they lay there, mourning their situation as Neverland ‘s magic slowly dissipated. The fairies all shook hands and held each other, commemorating the good time that they had had in Neverland, and then departed to go back to wherever they truly came from, but not one of them looked too sad. In fact, the only sad people on the island were Wendy and Peter.  
The Indians, having no fairy magic, turned back into thrushes. The Nevertrees returned to a Pokeweed, and the small house returned into a nest. When Peter and Wendy awoke next, they could see land on the other side of the shore. They could hear voices and the creaking of gates. Could it be? Another day more and the little bridge spanned before them. The water seemed to flow, and the Serpentine made itself known.  
They had been, all this time, right across from Kensington Gardens. Wendy was elated.  
“Peter! Look! We can go home!” She cried. Peter did not see the Gardens at all, all he saw was his Neverland reduced to nothing. He was dirty, covered in leaves, and miserably cold. Just a simple, ordinary boy trapped on the other side of the Gardens.  
“You go home, Wendy.” Peter moaned. “I cannot cross the river.”  
“Why ever not?” She asked. He was going to say that he could not swim, but then remembered foolishly that he was not a baby anymore and could swim across if he liked. Finally, he craned his neck to spy the children playing the Gardens. Real children. It had never occurred to Peter to play with real children, what if they knew he didn’t know how. He was terribly embarrassed of it. But Wendy pulled him up, and gave him confidence. She waded into the water, and Peter waded too. They had grown so much that they simply walked across the Serpentine, and when Peter finally stepped foot into the Gardens, it occurred to him that everything was real here.  
“Wendy, we are real, you and I.” He said, and they walked, sodden and unpleasantly dressed, into the land of grown ups, where surely they would face the fury of Hook again as a horrid school teacher.


End file.
